Storm
by acsbabyangelgirl
Summary: A series of losses drive Mark over the edge. What will it take for him to be himself again?
1. The Beginning

**Storm**

Mark slowly opened his eyes, praying that every indication his body was giving him would prove to be false. Unfortunately, that was not the case. He was lying in a hospital bed, although he couldn't remember how he had gotten there.

"Oh, thank God!" he heard someone mutter. A few seconds later, Maureen and Joanne were standing next to him.

"What happened?" he asked, attempting to pull his hand away from the vicinity of his face so he could sit up. It wouldn't move more than a few inches above the bed. "What the hell?" He turned so he could see what was stopping him from moving; he was handcuffed to the hospital bed. "What's going on?"

"God, Mark. Don't you remember what you did?" Joanne asked. He shook his head. "You disappeared… we filed a missing person's report two days ago. They found you passed out in an alley."

"But why am I being arrested?" he asked. His head was beginning to hurt from trying to understand exactly what was happening to him.

"Possession of cocaine," Joanne said, looking down at the floor. Mark closed his eyes and sighed. "Mark, what…"

"Please don't start," he interrupted.

"Mark, obviously there's something you aren't telling us. And since I'm your lawyer, I should probably know what the hell is going on," Joanne replied.

"I just lost two of my best friends. I think that whatever it is can wait," Mark said.

"You aren't the only one who lost them, Mark. They were our friends, too. Don't forget that," Maureen said. She and Joanne turned and left without saying another word. Mark was left to deal with his memories.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark groaned as he rolled off the couch to answer the door. Someone was banging on the cold metal at an unusually early hour of the morning. "What is it?" he muttered, pulling the door open.

"Jesus, Marky, I thought you'd be happy to see your little sister," the young woman replied, pushing past him into the loft. She shook her head as she surveyed her surroundings, her long blonde hair flicking at Mark's face.

"Beth, what are you doing here? At two AM, no less," Mark asked.

"I came to visit my big brother, of course," Beth replied.

"You have class tomorrow morning, don't you?"

"God, no, I gave that up a long time ago. It just wasn't working out for me. But of course, you understand all about that," Beth said.

"Beth, you love English. Why would you just quit?"

"It really wasn't that I quit. It was more like I was asked to leave," Beth admitted. Mark shook his head and sighed.

"I'm not sure I even want to know what caused that," he replied.

"Probably not. It wasn't one of my finest moments."

"I didn't think it could be."

"You are at least going to let me spend the night here, aren't you Marky? I mean, after all, I am your little sister," she begged.

"Of course, Beth. You're always welcome to stay here," he said. She smiled and gave him a hug. "You can sleep in my bed."

"You were sleeping on the couch already… why?" she asked, glancing at the blanket that lay crumpled across the back of the couch.

"Fell asleep reading… Collins must have given me the blanket," Mark replied. He walked over to his door and turned on the light so that Beth could see to get into the room.

LINELINELINELINE

It wasn't the obnoxiously bright sunlight that woke Mark from his fitful sleep. Instead, it was the fact that Collins, Roger, and April were all standing over the back of the couch laughing at something.

"What's so funny?" he asked, sitting up.

"You actually slept on the couch all night for no reason…" Collins began.

"I had a good reason for sleeping here all night," Mark replied.

"And that would be…" Roger asked.

"My sister showed up late last night. I let her sleep in my bed," Mark told them.

"That's sweet," April said, standing up and walking back towards Roger's room. Roger followed closely behind her. Mark sighed, knowing that they were going to shoot up. The short amount of time he'd been awake was, unfortunately, the only time Mark would see Roger sober all day. It was sad, but Mark couldn't control the actions of his best friend.

"We really should stop them," Collins said, looking up at the closed door that led into Roger's room. Mark stood up and stretched.

"No matter how hard we'd try, Roger's never going to give it up. Not until he's good and ready," Mark told him. He shook his head and got up to change into some clean clothes. He opened the door to his own bedroom, expecting to see his little sister still asleep. Instead, Beth was sitting on the edge of his bed, going through the exact same motions Mark knew Roger and April were starting on the other side of the loft. "What are you doing?" he asked as she lifted the needle towards her bare arm.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, Marky."

"Like hell it isn't! Do you have any idea what you're doing to yourself?" Mark asked, walking closer to the bed. He watched in horror as she plunged the needle into her arm and forced its contents into her veins.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, big brother. Don't worry about me," Beth replied, putting away her things. Mark sat down on his bed, defeated, as Beth rose and walked out into the main part of the loft. Without saying a word to Collins, she walked through the main room and out the front door. When Mark didn't return after a few minutes, Collins walked into his room.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We've got to stop them from killing themselves. All three of them," Mark replied, staring blankly at the wall.


	2. Regrets

**Storm**

A/n: Okay, so, brownie points to anyone who can tell me where I got the name for my story. Your only hints: it is Rent-related (it's up to you to figure out how). If you don't have it by the time I get chapter 3 posted, I'll give you another hint. Oh, and if you haven't figured it out already, the first scene in each chapter is present, and then it goes into a flashback.

Mark closed his eyes quickly as Joanne walked into his hospital room. She was in full-on lawyer mode. "We need to talk. I know you're awake," she said, putting her briefcase and coat down in a chair. Mark sighed and opened his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I've talked to the DA. We've worked out an arrangement so that you don't have to go to prison," Joanne told him.

"What do I have to do?" Mark asked. He wasn't too sure about the idea.

"Plead guilty and give the police the name of your dealer," Joanne said. "They're offering probation, provided you finish a rehab program."  
"I… I don't know," Mark replied, looking down at his hands.

"Well you'd better decide fast. You're being released in an hour, and they're going to take you straight to booking and then to arraignment. I need to know what you want to do, and I need to know in the next five minutes," Joanne said. "What possessed you to do this, Mark? You should know better… after everything you went through with Roger and Mimi."

"I don't know what it was, Joanne! I just… One of the guys at work gave it to me, said it would help. I was so stressed out about Roger being gone and Mimi missing, I didn't think. Then with the funerals and everything…" Mark couldn't finish his sentence. Joanne sat down and closed her eyes.

"God Mark… I knew you were having a hard time, but I didn't realize it was that bad," she said. She sighed and reached out to take his hand. "You could have talked to one of us."

"You were both so busy… you didn't have time to try to take care of my problems, too," Mark replied. He closed his eyes. "I'll take the deal, Joanne."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark sat on the couch, staring at the floor. It was late, much later than he wanted to be awake. But Beth hadn't come home yet, and he was worried about her. He was her big brother, after all. Mark glanced at the clock and noticed that it was almost three-thirty in the morning. The door slid open and Beth stumbled in. She looked shocked to see him still awake. "Hey, Marky. You didn't have to wait up for me," she said, smiling.

"I talked to Mom today," he said, looking up at her from the couch. She shrugged.

"Why am I supposed to care? She disowned me, in case she didn't tell you," Beth said.

"I told her about the drugs, Beth. She said that's why she sent you to me. You never told me that," Mark said. He stood up. "You said you were asked to leave… was it the smack?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. And you're talking like a crazy person. I'm going to bed, and I'll talk to you when you're sane," she replied. He reached out and grabbed her by the arm. She turned on him. "I'm not doing anything that your roommate and his girlfriend aren't. And you can't tell me that you didn't know what was going on. So just leave me alone."

"You can do that shit all you want, but you aren't going to do it here," Mark replied. "Roger and April help pay rent. Unless you've got money to spend on something other than drugs, I want you out of here tomorrow morning."

"You can act like you're all holy and perfect all you want, Mark. But you know you want to try it. You know you're curious."

"Get out." Mark pushed her away from him and stalked off into the bathroom. He closed the door and slid down the wall, closing his eyes. After a few minutes, he heard a knock. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Are you okay?" Collins asked. Mark sighed and stood up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a minute," he replied. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to control himself before opening the door. "It's late… you should be in bed."

"I would be, but you and Beth were fighting pretty loudly in here," Collins replied.

"Sorry… we didn't mean to wake you. It's just…"

"Just you trying to protect your little sister from herself. I get it. But you can't save everyone, Mark. You'll only end up hurting yourself," Collins replied.

"That's not going to happen. I'll be fine."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark watched from the fire escape as Beth threw her suitcase into the trunk of a cab. He'd called one for her, even if it was only to protect her from the crazy homeless people in Alphabet City.

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Collins asked.

"I can't save everyone, Collins. And Beth definitely doesn't want to be saved."

"I just hope you aren't going to regret this later."


	3. Overdose

**Storm**

A/n: Your next hint: It's sung by a guy. And I'm about to do something I hate, but you have left me no choice. PLEASE review!!!

Mark listened in silence as the charges against him were read. Just hearing these things made him feel as though he was going to be sick. He stared at the ground as he answered the questions from the judge that would result in his being released. Mark shivered involuntarily as the judge dismissed everyone. Joanne turned to him and smiled. "You're doing the right thing."

"I'm doing the only thing I can," Mark replied. He gripped the edge of the table as a wave of dizziness hit him. He hadn't felt well before, but the longer he stood the worse it became.

"Come on. You can stay with me and Maureen tonight," Joanne offered. He started to follow her, but his knees gave way as soon as he let go of the table. He didn't black out, but he did see stars as his head bounced off the table's edge. Mark sat there for a moment, dazed.

"I'm fine," he muttered as one of the prosecutors moved to help him up. He stood slowly, grasping the edge of the table with a death grip.

"Maybe you should sit down," Joanne suggested. Mark nodded slowly, but instantly regretted the decision as pain echoed through his skull. "You're bleeding," she said. Mark reached up and gingerly touched the broken skin. Someone pressed a handkerchief into his hand, and he held it against the wound.

"He needs to go to the hospital. That might need stitches," someone suggested.

"I'll be fine in a minute," Mark replied. He hated hospitals with a passion.

"He's right, Mark," Joanne said. "You could have a concussion." Mark closed his eyes and sighed. "It'll only take a couple of hours." She looked up as two paramedics came through the doors and into the court room.

"I don't want to go," Mark said. Joanne touched his hand.

"Mark, please. It can't hurt to just go get it checked out."

"I'm fine," Mark replied, standing up. It took all of the strength he had to stay on his feet, but he only managed it for a moment before he had to sit back down. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe as normally as possible, despite the fact that his heart was racing and he felt as though he was going to pass out at any moment. One of the paramedics moved his hand away from the wound and tried to clean it up some, while the other checked his pulse.

"Mr.…"

"Cohen," Joanne supplied.

"Mr. Cohen, can you tell us what happened?" one of the paramedics asked. Mark opened his eyes, but didn't answer. His eyes closed again and he blacked out completely.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark crawled out of his warm bed and ran into the main room of the loft to answer the ringing telephone. "Hello," he muttered, shivering against the February night.

"Can I speak to a Mark Cohen, please?" a female voice asked. She sounded very authoritative.

"This is he."

"This is Detective Kathryn Carter. Are you the brother of an Elizabeth Cohen?" Detective Carter asked. Mark sighed.

"What did she do?" he asked. He heard the detective sigh.

"Mr. Cohen, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this… a detective found your sister's ID next to a body in Central Park." Mark closed his eyes, unsure of what to do. "Your parents gave us your number… someone needs to come down to the morgue to identify the body."

"What time do you want me to come?" he asked, leaning against the wall and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor.

"Just whenever you get a chance today," the detective replied. Mark was about to hang up, but he stopped himself.

"Do you know…? I mean, can you tell me what happened to her?" Mark asked.

"The medical examiner hasn't finished the autopsy yet, but it looks like it was an overdose," the detective told him. He sighed and hung up the phone, burying his face in his hands.

"Mark, are you okay?" Roger asked.

"Yeah, Roger, I'm fine," he replied.

"Who called?"

"Some detective… they found Beth's body in the park this morning," Mark replied. Roger looked concerned and sat down on the floor next to his best friend.

"I'm sorry."

"She overdosed." Mark looked up to see his friend's reaction. Roger looked stunned.

"I… I don't know what to say, Mark," Roger admitted.

"Promise me… promise me you'll get clean. You and April both." Roger thought about it for a second. Then he nodded.

"I can't promise for April," he said. "But I'll try."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark watched in silence as the medical examiner lifted the sheet. He glanced down at the body, but was forced to turn away from the face. "That's Beth." The sheet was quickly lowered back into place and the table was pushed back into the wall. Collins put an arm around Mark's shoulders. Then he led Mark out of the morgue and back to the land of the living.


	4. Suicide

**Storm**

A/n: Hint numero tres: He plays/played Roger (I'm not telling you which one it is).

Mark opened his eyes and groaned. He was once again in a hospital bed, although at least this time he wasn't handcuffed. He sighed and closed his eyes as Joanne leaned over the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked. He opened his eyes and realized she wasn't wearing the same outfit as before.

"Exhausted… what happened?" he asked. He couldn't remember anything beyond just after he hit his head.

"You blacked out just after the paramedics got into the courtroom," Joanne told him. "Your heart stopped completely after they got you to the hospital." Mark started to sit up, but she stopped him. "Don't."

"Is there something wrong with my heart?" he asked. Joanne looked away from him for a moment and then sighed.

"It's called an atrial septal defect. There's a hole between the atria in your heart," she explained. "That's all I know."

"What's going to happen to me?" Mark asked. Joanne shook her head and looked up as Maureen entered the room with two cups of coffee.

"I don't know. You'll have to talk to your doctor about that," Joanne replied. She took one of the coffee cups from Maureen. "He was here earlier, and he said that he would come back this afternoon."

"Afternoon?"

"Mark, it's been almost a week," Joanne replied.

"We had to force Collins to go back to the loft and sleep last night. He didn't want anything to happen to you," Maureen said. She took his left hand and stared at his fingers. "It's too bad we can't paint your nails, like we did with Angel."

"I'm not dying yet, Maureen."

LINELINELINELINE

By the time Collins and Mark had gotten back to the loft, Roger was fast asleep and April was nowhere to be found. "Think she finally stole Roger's stash and left?" Collins asked, jokingly. Mark smiled slightly before collapsing onto the couch. "You should go back to bed and get some more sleep. I know you didn't get anywhere near enough last night."

"I need to call my parents and tell them what's going on," Mark replied, closing his eyes.

"I'll call them for you. Lord knows you don't need to stress yourself out any more about all of this," Collins replied. He pulled on Mark's arm until the smaller man stood up, and then led him into the bedroom. Then he made Mark get into the bed and lie down. "Get some sleep. I'll keep the Siamese junkies out of here."

"Thanks, Collins."

LINELINELINELINE

It was several hours later before Mark woke up. He stretched and got up, heading immediately for the bathroom. "April's taking a bath," Collins warned him.

"How long has she been in there?" Mark asked.

"She'll be out soon."

"If she's not out in five minutes, I'm going in," Mark replied. He walked over and sat down on the couch. "Did you call?"

"They were going to call the funeral home as soon as they hung up with me. Her funeral's on Friday, up in Scarsdale," Collins told him. Mark nodded and picked up an old book that was sitting on the giant cable spool they'd turned into a table. He read for a few minutes before closing the book and looking up at the bathroom door. Collins noticed and sighed. "Maybe one of us should go in and check on her." Collins got up and knocked on the door. When he didn't receive an answer, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. The smell of blood filled the air. "Mark, call 911."

LINELINELINELINE

By the time the paramedics arrived, April was long gone. The police came and went, taking pictures and then taking away her body in a black bag. It wasn't until they were gone that either Mark or Collins thought to show Roger, who'd woken up just after Mark called 911, the words that she'd written on the mirror. She'd written them in lipstick, roughly the color of the blood that stained the old bathtub. _We've got AIDS_.

Mark and Collins both tried to get Roger to go to the free clinic down the street immediately, but he refused. Eventually, he hid in the room he'd shared with April. When Collins went to check on him a few hours later, he found a small pile of smack and needles in one corner. Roger stared at it as Collins and Mark both looked on.

"I'm done with that shit. It took April away from me… now I'm going to get rid of it," Roger said. He was staring out the window, tears in his eyes. Collins moved to put it all in the trash, but Roger stopped him. "Don't. I'll do it."

"It shouldn't stay here if you're going to quit," Collins replied.

"April and I shared needles. If she really did have AIDS, then they're all contaminated," Roger said. He turned and looked at his two best friends. "I'm not going to let either of you risk getting infected."

"It's a little late for trying to save me," Collins remarked, grabbing a box and beginning to pick up the needles. Mark watched in silence. He'd known for a while about Collins… Roger had been too high to remember that revelation a few months before.


	5. Pleading

**Storm**

A/n: All right, final hint: he's British. If you don't get it before I post chapter six, I'm going to give the answer.

Mark willingly let the nurse help him into the passenger's seat of Joanne's car. He was still exhausted, even though it had been almost a week since he'd woken up in the hospital for a second time. He winced as the seatbelt brushed across the burns on his chest from being shocked. While they weren't very bad, they still hurt. He closed his eyes and sighed as the nurse closed the door. Joanne walked around and got into the driver's side.

"Are you doing all right?" Joanne asked.

"Yeah. I haven't hit the worst of withdrawals yet," Mark replied. He didn't open his eyes. "I'm so exhausted."

"You can sleep when we get back to the apartment," Joanne offered.

"All I've done for the past two weeks is sleep," Mark complained.

"You have a concussion, besides the fact that you're trying to break an addiction. You have every right to be tired," Joanne replied.

"I don't want an excuse. I want things to get back to normal already. I want my life back," Mark said. He sighed. "I'm not ready for all of this yet."

"Mark, it's going to be okay. You can handle this."

"I couldn't handle it when Roger left to go to Santa Fe… after the funeral it got worse, in case you don't remember," Mark spat. He was starting to get mad at her attempts to comfort him. "But I shouldn't expect you to remember… you were too wrapped up in your own life to see what was going on."

"If you hadn't hidden from the rest of us, we would have figured it out! Don't go trying to lay the blame with any of us, Mark," Joanne warned. Mark just sighed and stopped talking.

LINELINELINELINE

"Please, just let me go!" Roger begged. It took both Mark and Collins to hold him back.

"You don't need it anymore, Roger. You've got to get it out of your system," Mark replied.

"I just need one more!"

"Roger, it'll only do you more harm than good. You don't need heroin, you just want it. And I'm not about to sit here and let you destroy your life with that shit the way Beth did," Collins told him. Mark closed his eyes at the mention of his sister, but he didn't give an inch. Though it was the honest-to-goodness truth, the fact that Collins put the feeling into words made it all the more important.

"Roger, just calm down, okay? You don't have to do this! Don't you want to play with your band?" Mark asked.

"Why wouldn't I be able to play? I work better when I'm high," Roger replied. But the mention of the band did lessen his attempts to reach the door.

"You'll kill yourself with that shit, Rog. Then the band won't have its lead singer any more," Mark reasoned. "If you won't do it to save your own life, at least do it to save your career." Roger stopped fighting, focusing his energy on thinking about what Mark had said. Finally, he pulled away from his friends and went back into his bedroom. Mark breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just wait until we get to start on actual withdrawals," Collins said. Mark shot him a look that could mean either 'shut up' or 'go to hell.' Collins wasn't sure which one Mark meant, but he didn't really want to try and find out.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark watched in silence as Roger stared out the window onto the street below. The musician sighed and went for his guitar, but his hand stopped a few inches away. "You should try to start playing again, Roger."

"What good would it do? It isn't like I've got anything left to live for," Roger replied.

"You've got your music," Mark supplied. Roger rolled his eyes.

"What band would hire and HIV-positive ex-junkie as their lead singer? In case you forgot, the guys gave me the axe as soon as they found out what I was," Roger said. Mark just shook his head and went back to making their coffee.

"Then go solo. You're too good at it to just give up."

"I haven't got anything left, Mark. It's over. Stick a fork in me, I'm done," Roger replied. It was Mark's turn to roll his eyes.

"Just try, Roger. For the sake of your own sanity, just try."


	6. Breakup

**Storm**

A/n: Yay!! Unnamed Element got the answer right… it's Declan Bennett, the current tour cast Roger.

"Please, Joanne," Mark whispered. He was shaking from withdrawals. Joanne shook her head.

"You can't go out, Mark. Not yet," she replied. Mark forced himself to stand up and started towards the door, ignoring the chills going through his body. "Where are you going?"

"Out." He headed towards the door and grabbed his coat.

"Do you want to go to jail, Mark?" Joanne asked. He stopped as his hand touched the doorknob. "Is it really worth it?" He glanced down at his shaking hands for a moment.

"I don't think I can do this, Joanne," Mark whispered. Joanne walked over and led him back towards the couch.

"Yes, you can. You're going to beat this addiction; Maureen and I are going to help you," Joanne replied. She pushed him down onto the couch and put a blanket over his shivering body. She pushed the hair out of his face and sighed. "You've got to do this, Mark. It's going to kill you if you don't quit."

"I'm starting to think it's going to kill me either way I go," Mark replied. Joanne smiled at his bad attempt at a joke. He closed his eyes and pulled the blanket closer around his body. "It's freezing in here." Joanne walked over to the closet and pulled out another, thicker blanket. She put it on top of him and sat down in the floor next to the couch.

"You're going to get through this, Mark."

"I know, Joanne. Thanks," Mark replied.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark glanced across the loft at Roger as he wrapped the worn old scarf around his neck. "I'm going out," he called. Roger didn't acknowledge him. "You should get out of the loft, Roger."

"I'm fine. Just go shoot your stupid movie." Mark sighed and left, carrying his old bike over his shoulders. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and sat down to catch his breath.

"Still out of shape after all this time?" someone asked. Mark looked up and smiled as he saw Collins standing there.

"It's a long way down from the fifth floor when I've got to walk," Mark replied. Collins just shook his head and sat down next to his old friend.

"You need to get more exercise than just riding that old bike around every once in a while," Collins told him.

"I haven't gotten out for a long time. You know that," Mark replied.

"How're things with Maureen?" Mark winced at the sound of her name.

"She hasn't been around for a while. I was just on my way to see her… she moved out after April… you know," Mark replied. Collins just nodded.

"I just came to tell you guys the good news," Collins replied, standing up. "I got a job… MIT. They need an emergency replacement for a philosophy professor that slept with one of his students."

"That's great! Congratulations!" Mark replied. He stood up and picked up his bike. "I'd better go… I have to find Maureen."

"Good luck with that."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark put the key into the lock of Maureen's apartment. She'd given it to him a long time ago, before she'd moved into the loft. He pushed open the door. "Maureen?" he called.

"Pookie, is that you?" she called back. Mark smiled and shut the door.

"Yeah. I missed you," Mark replied, walking towards the bedroom. He heard her pulling something out of the closet and shutting the door.

"Come on back here, Pookie. I have a surprise for you," she called. Mark smiled and opened the door. Maureen was standing there in her bathrobe. Mark smiled.

"Did you just wake up?" he asked. Maureen nodded.

"Yeah, I did," she replied, smiling back at him. He laughed as she wrapped an arm around his waist. "I've missed you so much, Pookie. I want to come back to the loft," she said, pulling him closer to her.

"I want you to come back, too… I just don't know if that's such a good idea right now," he replied. He kissed Maureen. "I think it's just still too soon for Roger to see us together." Maureen sighed and pulled away. "Maureen…"

"I'm seriously getting sick of hearing about Roger's problems. I think that maybe we need to reconsider what's going on with the two of us," Maureen replied.

"Maureen, please don't do this… not now," Mark begged. Maureen just shook her head and walked towards the bathroom door.

"Roger's a big boy, Mark. He can take a hell of a lot more than you realize."

"Maureen, let's talk about this, please," Mark said.

"Time for talking is over, Mark. We're done," Maureen said, opening the bathroom door. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Maureen…"

"Go away Mark. I don't want to talk to you right now," Maureen replied.


	7. Meeting

**Storm**

Mark opened his eyes, wondering what could be making everything shake so violently. "It's time to get up, Mark," a too-cheery voice called. Mark groaned and closed his eyes again, knowing that it was just Maureen shaking the bed.

"Please stop," he said, burying his face in the pillow.

"Not until you get up," Maureen replied.

"I'm going to be sick if you keep this up," Mark responded. Maureen immediately stopped, and Mark rolled back over to look at her. "What's so important that I have to get up at six-thirty in the morning?"

"Doctor's appointment. And you really need a shower," she told him. Mark rolled his eyes and sat up, reaching for his glasses.

"I'm up… you can leave now," he said. He reached for the covers and pulled them closer to his body. Maureen looked worried. "I'm not sick, Mo. It's just part of withdrawls."

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Maureen asked.

"What are you trying to say, Maureen?"

"It's been a few weeks since the last time you… you know. Maybe it's something more than just getting over an addiction," Maureen suggested. Mark shook his head.

"I saw it with Roger, Maureen. It takes a while to get over it completely. Just trust me about this," Mark replied. He forced himself to sit up and start to get out of the bed. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I do worry, Mark. You're one of my best friends and I need to know that you're going to be okay," Maureen told him. She smiled. "But the good news is Collins called this morning. He's going to come over tonight." Mark sighed.

"Is he still mad at me?" Mark asked.

"What makes you think he's mad at you?"  
"How about the fact that he hasn't been around since I woke up almost two weeks ago?" Mark asked. Maureen sighed.

"He just doesn't know how to handle this, Mark. None of us do. I mean, this is the type of thing we'd expected from Roger… not from you," Maureen replied.

LINELINELINELINE

"The power's out," Roger said as Mark walked in the door.

"Well that's just fucking great," Mark replied, putting down his bike and taking off his scarf. He smiled at the sight of Roger fiddling with his guitar.

"This stupid thing won't tune," Roger muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"I heard."

"Shut up." The phone rang and Mark picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey man, it's Collins. Throw down the key."

"Collins is here," Mark told Roger as he hung up the phone. He ran out to the fire escape and dropped the key down to their old roommate before rushing back inside to get away from the freezing cold air.

"It's freezing in here. We should start a fire or something," Roger told him. Mark sighed.

"We don't have anything to burn," Mark replied, pulling the old trash can into the center of the room and pulling down the sheet they used to cover the broken skylight. "That is, unless you want to burn all of those old posters that are just gathering dust in your room."

"Good idea," Roger said, running to get them.

"I was only kidding. I was going to burn some of my old shit," Mark called.

"We'll burn them both. It'll take both to warm this place up," Roger replied, throwing a stack of old posters into the can. Mark dug in his coat pocket and pulled out an eviction notice.

"Might as well burn this, too," he said, adding it to the pile of rubbish in the can. Roger pulled it out as Mark went for his manuscripts and started reading.

"What the fuck is Benny trying to pull?" he asked.

"He's trying to bail himself out with the rich bitch's dad," Mark replied. "Mr. Gray isn't very happy about our arrangement with Benny."

"He can suck it up. A promise is a promise."

LINELINELINELINE

"I'm going out for a while," Mark said. "Collins should have been up here ages ago. I'm going to go look for him."

"Have fun," Roger replied from the couch. Mark just shook his head.

"C'mon, Roger. Get out of the building for a while," Mark said.

"I'm just fine where I am, thanks." Mark sighed and picked up his bike and camera.

"Take your AZT." Mark left the loft and started down the stairs. When he got down to the fourth floor, he ran into one of their neighbors. "Sorry," he said, smiling at the petite Latina.

"It's okay. Your heat out too, or is it just me?" she asked.

"It's out for us, too. Benny's just being an asshole again," Mark replied.

"Tell me about it. I'm Mimi," she said.

"Mark. I should go; I'm supposed to be looking for one of our friends. He somehow managed to get lost somewhere between the street and our apartment," Mark said. Mimi smiled, and the two parted company.


	8. Goodbyes

**Storm**

A/n: Okay, so I'm assuming that everyone reading this knows what happens in the play (or at least the movie), so that I can skip a few things. Because recapping the entire thing in the flashbacks is a)boring and b)tedious and I'm not going to do it.

Mark was silent throughout the entire subway ride back from the doctor's office. He wasn't sure what to say about what had just happened.

"Are you okay?" Maureen asked as they climbed up the stairs to street level. He forced a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He didn't look at her, but he still knew that she didn't believe him. "We should get going. Collins is probably waiting on us."

"Collins can wait, Mark." Mark turned to face her at that; she sounded genuinely concerned. "A doctor just told you that you need to have open heart surgery and you're acting like nothing has happened."

"Maureen, can we please not talk about this right now?"

"When do you want to talk about it? In two weeks, when they're putting you to sleep?" she asked. Mark sighed and turned away from her, walking in the direction of Maureen and Joanne's apartment. "Just talk to me, Mark. For God's sake, you don't need to try dealing with this on your own. You've got more than enough to be dealing with as it is."

"Maureen, just later, okay? I have to go explain myself to Collins, and you know as well as I do that he can be ten times worse than our parents ever were," Mark replied. The two walked in silence until they reached Maureen and Joanne's building. Maureen dug out her key and opened the door. Both were surprised that Collins wasn't waiting on the stoop for them, until they saw him sitting just outside the door to the actual apartment.

"Your neighbor let me in. Nice guy. Seems to think pretty highly of you, Mo," Collins explained with a smirk. Maureen just rolled her eyes.

"That's the last thing I needed to know about Will," she replied. She smiled. "Surprised it's been so long since you came to see us."

"I've been busy," Collins said, smiling. Maureen opened the door and the three went inside. Collins immediately stopped Mark. "We need to have a little chat."

"Yeah," Mark replied, looking down at the ground.

"Boy, what on Earth were you thinking? You watched three of your friends die from doing that kind of shit, not to mention your little sister," Collins reminded him.

"It was different… no needles. I didn't think about what I was doing," Mark replied.

"That's pretty obvious. How on Earth did you manage to hide it from everybody for so long?"

"It was just every once in a while at first. Roger and Mimi found out… right before. They were both pretty pissed about it," Mark admitted. "Roger threatened to call you, but he didn't get the chance." Mark closed his eyes and let his body lean against the wall.

"And you've been hiding from us ever since," Collins finished. Mark just nodded.

"It took away the pain… I just couldn't take it any more."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark watched in silence as Roger threw things into a bag. "You're really going to leave."

"I don't have a reason to stay here anymore. I need to go away, find some fucking inspiration," Roger replied.

"What about Mimi? What about me?" Mark asked.

"Mimi has Benny now. And smack. She'll survive," Roger replied. Mark didn't bring up the second part of his question again; he knew he wasn't going to get an answer.

"You still love her. But you're just going to let him win, is that it?"

"Stop telling me what I already know! He won a long time ago, Mark. So I'm getting out of here… I don't want to see her again," Roger replied. He grabbed his bag and made his way out of the loft, running over Mimi in the process. "You heard." She looked down.

"I just came to say goodbye," she whispered. Roger pushed past her and on his way. She closed her eyes and began to silently cry, until Mark attempted to comfort her.

"I have to get out of here," she said, pushing away from him.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark stared blankly at the footage he was supposed to be editing. Roger had been gone for a week, and so far Mark hadn't heard anything from him or Mimi. Benny had paid for Mimi to go to a rehab, but she'd signed herself out two days later. Mark was miserable, just going through the motions of working.

"You don't look so hot," a coworker said. Mark looked up at the young man that was addressing him.

"Long week," Mark replied, forcing a smile. The other man smirked and shook his head.

"It's always a long week around here. You've just got to learn how to deal with it," the man said. "My name's Jackson." He extended his hand. Mark shook it.

"Mark."

"I'll let you in on my secret… meet me by the water cooler in ten minutes." Jackson disappeared, leaving Mark confused and somewhat curious.


	9. Hiding

**Storm**

A/n: Wow… I was just looking at my profile… in just a little less than two weeks I'll have been on this website for FIVE years. Hard to believe that I started writing these stories when I was just 13. I can't believe how much they've changed since then.

Mark leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. It was nice, having Collins around. He could almost imagine that everything was okay, that Roger and Mimi and Angel were all there as well. That he could hear their laughter mixed with that of everyone else.

_But they're dead_. Mark's eyes popped open at that thought and he sighed. He needed a hit. Desperately. He felt his hands begin to shake at the thought. Mark stood up and walked quickly back toward the guest room he had been living in. He knew he didn't have anything; he just didn't want everyone else to see him this way. He closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed and attempted to control himself. _I can't give in. I have to fight this._

Collins didn't seem at all shocked about Mark's sudden departure, but he could tell that it bothered Maureen and Joanne, so he quickly volunteered to check on their friend. He knocked on the door of Mark's room and waited. When he didn't receive a response, he turned the handle and let himself in. He sighed and walked over to the bed, wrapping an arm around Mark's shaking shoulders.

"It's okay. It's okay, Mark, calm down," Collins said.

"Don't let me leave, Collins. I'll do something I'll regret," Mark replied.

"Don't worry about that, buddy. I'm not letting you go anywhere," Collins said.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark glanced down at the line sitting on the mirror in front of him. It had been a month since Roger left for Santa Fe. The rocker had sent Mark one post card, just to say that he'd made it to New Mexico safely. Mark had been hoping for something more, but it never came.

He leaned over did the line quickly before settling back into the couch. It took a while, but the high was more than worth it for Mark. For a while, at least, he could forget the fact that he was alone. Mark sighed and put away the old mirror and razor blade. It was sad, but he could only feel happy after a hit any more. Work was mind-rotting. He didn't ever see his friends, mainly because they were all avoiding each other after what had happened at Angel's funeral.

Mark heard the door of the loft open and someone drop something on the floor. He turned to see Roger standing there, smiling at him.

"You're back?" Mark asked.

"I'm back."

"What happened to finding your inspiration out in Santa Fe?"

"I realized that all the inspiration I needed was right here," Roger replied. "Speaking of which, where's Mimi? I knocked on her door but I didn't get an answer."

"No one's seen Mimi in a while… she went to rehab for a while, but she checked herself out and disappeared," Mark answered. Roger just nodded. He looked over at Mark, almost as if he were confused.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Mark replied, turning away and mentally kicking himself for letting Roger see that he was high. Roger, however, assumed that Mark just hadn't gotten enough sleep and picked up his stuff to take it and put it away.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark glanced up at the clock on the wall and sighed. All of the Bohemians were waiting in the emergency room to see what would become of Mimi. He felt his foot begin to tap incessantly on the floor, but he couldn't control himself.

"Mark, would you just stop that?" Maureen asked. She really hated hospitals, even more so than Mark.

Instead of answering, Mark stood up. "I'm going to go for a walk," he said, not looking at anyone else. They didn't really acknowledge what he'd said, so he started for the door.

The cold December air woke Mark up as he walked down the nearly empty streets. It was about five AM, so very few people were around. As much as he wanted to be there for Roger, Mark just couldn't take the waiting any longer. It was driving him crazy, not to mention the fact that he was having trouble controlling the cravings.

It was several minute before Mark realized where his feet were taking him. By the time he realized what he was doing, the exchange was already complete and he had the substance his body so desperately wanted in his pants pocket. He made his way back to the loft quickly and made a line, praying that one would suffice.

It wasn't until the high set in that he remembered the fact that everyone else was still sitting in the hospital waiting room. He glanced down at his watch and realized that he'd been gone for almost an hour. He quickly hid the old mirror and the razor blade in his room and looked around for something to do until he was sober enough to return to waiting.

He was just about to go back when the loft door opened and the three other residents of the loft entered. He smiled at them.

"You never came back," Collins said, looking him over as Roger and Mimi went to get in their bed.

"I was about to. I just had to get out of there for a while," Mark replied. Collins snorted.

"Two hours is a long fucking time, Mark. I thought you'd gotten yourself mugged or something," the older man replied. Mark smiled.

"Well, as you can see, that obviously isn't the case."

A/n: All right, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to ask again in hopes that it will work some more… see the little blueish-purple button at the bottom left of your screen? Please hit it and leave me some feedback. Thanks in advance!


	10. Caught

**Storm**

Maureen, Joanne and Collins all waited in silence. It had been several hours since they'd taken Mark back into surgery. His parents had been there for the first hour or so, sitting as far away from the remnants of the Bohemian family as possible. Despite the fact that Joanne was obviously not like the rest of them, Mark's family still thought they were a suspicious looking group of people.

"It's not like they know how he lives," Maureen had said when his parents finally left for a while. "Who are they to come here and judge us because of how we look?"

"Maureen, please don't do this," Joanne had said. And Maureen had listened, because she didn't feel like pissing anyone off on this particular morning. She was too worried about Mark to really care about his parents.

The three watched in silence as Mark's parents returned to the room. The couple sat down at the far end of the room once again. This time, it was Collins who spoke up.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. Joanne and Maureen watched in awe as he stood up and approached the only other occupants of the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Cohen, my name is Tom Collins. I'm one of Mark's friends," he said, extending his hand. Mr. Cohen shook it politely.

"It's nice to meet you," the older man said, forcing a smile. Then he looked away, ending the conversation. Instead of retreating back towards his friends, Collins sat down directly across from the Cohens in an attempt to get them to talk more.

It seemed like ages in the silence, but was probably only a few minutes, before a doctor entered the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Cohen?" he asked. The couple nodded and followed him out into the hall, leaving Collins to retreat back to Maureen and Joanne.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark leaned back into the couch, enjoying the short high. He'd simply left everything out, knowing that one hit just wouldn't be enough. Now that Mimi was getting even sicker, Mark couldn't make it through the day without several hits. Thankfully, Collins was living across town, closer to his job. Roger spent all of his time down in Mimi's apartment with her, leaving Mark in the loft by himself for the majority of the day.

He was just about to close his eyes when the loft door slid open. Mimi and Roger stood there, dumbfounded at what they saw. "What the fuck are you doing?" Roger asked. Mark sat up and attempted to hide the evidence of his newfound addiction. "Answer me, damnit!"

"I…" Mark couldn't find the words to explain.

"How long?" Mimi asked, staring daggers at him.

"When Roger was gone to Santa Fe," Mark replied. Roger just shook his head.

"Why?" Mark looked down at the floor and didn't answer. "Why would you do that to yourself, you idiot?!"

"I wasn't thinking! It was an escape… it was the only way to forget the fact that I was alone because the two of you had to go find yourselves," Mark replied. Roger shook his head, and for a moment Mark was afraid that his best friend was about to kill him.

"Don't try blaming this on us. You chose this path for yourself," Roger said. He turned to go, but stopped when Mimi didn't follow him immediately. "I had to make a choice, Mark. I chose not to live that life any more. Now it's your turn. But just know that if you choose that life, I'm not going to be around to catch you when you fall the way you were for me."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked.

"I mean you have to choose: our friendship or the drugs." Mark just stared at him dumbfounded. Roger turned to go again, and this time Mimi followed him out. Mark stood there in shock for a moment, before rushing out to the fire escape to try talking to Roger again. He watched the couple walk out to the crosswalk, but couldn't force himself to open his mouth. Roger could feel his friend watching them, and stopped to turn and look up at him on the fire escape. "I'm calling Collins when I get back," he called. Mark just closed his eyes and returned to the loft.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark listened to the angry ringing of the telephone but didn't answer. He was too afraid that it was Collins, calling to yell at him about the drugs. He chose instead to let the answering machine pick up as he sunk deeper into a high. In his mind, everything would be okay if he just didn't accept that anything had happened. It wasn't until the blinking red light began to annoy him that he even bothered to listen to the message.

"Mark, it's Joanne. Pick up the phone." There was a pause in the message, as though she were waiting for him to answer. "Oh God. Just call me on my cell when you get this Mark. It's important," she said. He listened to the dial tone as the machine cut off. Sighing, Mark picked up the old phone and dialed Joanne's number.

"Hello?" the lawyer answered. Mark could tell by her voice that something was wrong.

"Joanne? It's Mark. I got your message," he said.

"Mark. I really don't know how to tell you this," she replied. Mark sat down, preparing himself for whatever it was she had to say.

"What's going on?"

"Mark, it's Roger and Mimi."

"What happened?" he asked. He heard her pause, as though she was trying to figure out what to say. "Joanne, just tell me what happened!"

"They're dead," she said, almost in a whisper. Mark didn't listen as she explained how they'd been hit by a car on their way to a Life Support meeting. He let the telephone fall down by his side and began to cry.

A/n: All right, here's the deal from now on… no reviews no new chapters. Sorry, but I need feedback so that I'll know I'm not just wasting my time writing these chapters!


	11. Funerals

**Storm**

A/n: It's amazing how well threats work with you people! I got several reviews for that last chapter just by threatening to stop writing. And so, y'all get another chapter.

Mark opened his eyes and saw his friends smiling down at him. "Hey," he muttered, smiling. He was still mostly asleep.

"Hey yourself," Maureen replied. Mark closed his eyes and sighed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone cut open my chest," he said, smiling. Collins laughed at his bad attempt at a joke.

"That's probably because someone just did," Collins replied. Mark smiled and slowly lifted his hand to flip his friend off. "Well there you go; the boy's going to be just fine." The small group laughed, minus Mark who appeared to be falling asleep again.

"Do you want us to leave so you can sleep?" Joanne asked. Mark shook his head but didn't open his eyes.

"Stay, please. I don't want to be alone," he said.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark watched as the two coffins were slowly lowered into the ground. He winced as they hit the bottom of the graves. He couldn't believe that this would be the last time he would see Roger and Mimi… in their coffins, made up to look like they were still alive. He sighed and watched as everyone else filed away. Mimi and Roger's mothers remained seated towards the front and Mark remained standing at the back.

"C'mon, man. Let's get out of here," Collins said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Mark shook his head.

"I'll see you back at the loft later," Mark replied. He turned and walked away from the scene, putting his hands deep in his pockets.

"Mark, you're not going to walk all the way back to the loft," Joanne said, leading him towards her car. He shook his head.

"I just need to take a walk, clear my head," Mark replied.

"We're at least taking you as far as Alphabet City. No excuses," Joanne told him. He sighed, knowing that she was only trying to be helpful. He got into the back seat of the car and shut the door. He didn't want to be in a vehicle with the two of them right now. All he really wanted was to find someone who would sell him his next hit. But Joanne wasn't going to take no for an answer today, and he knew that.

"You guys really don't have to do this," Mark said, a final attempt at protesting.

"Mark, it's too far for you to walk. And it looks like it's going to rain anyway," Joanne told him, climbing into the driver's seat. Maureen was sitting in the passenger's seat up front. Mark really wasn't sure how Collins would be getting home, but he assumed that Maureen and Joanne knew.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark stared into the loft from the door. It was too empty; Roger's guitar was still sitting against the wall where he'd left it. Mark could see a pair of Mimi's shoes peeking out from underneath the couch. All of the old band posters haunted him with their pictures of Roger. He closed his eyes and sighed. It was going to be hard getting away from these reminders of his past.

Collins wasn't there to help, at least, not for a while. Something had happened, and he had to leave the city for a few days and go home, wherever that might be. It had been two days since the funeral. Mark had tried to keep busy, but he couldn't do much of anything without being reminded of his friends. There were so many things in the loft that didn't belong to him. Most of the time he ended up just watching old reels of footage he'd shot… some of Roger before April and drugs; some of Roger and April together; some of Angel and Collins; some of Roger with Mimi. Some of Mimi by herself, or dancing with angel and being crazy. Several times he found himself laughing at whatever was happening on the screen, and then crying because he knew that he'd never see those things again.

"I've got to get out of here," Mark mumbled. He picked up his coat and walked out, not realizing that it would be the last time he would see the loft for a long time.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark was starting to feel ill; he'd done more lines than he'd intended, but it still wasn't enough to make the pain of being alone disappear. He had more in his pocket. It had been nearly two weeks since the funeral; Collins would have gotten back to the loft the day before, but Mark didn't care to see him. He'd rather not see anyone. He'd been hiding out in alleys and such at night for several days, acting like a homeless person. Some times it was just wherever he fell when he decided he couldn't go any further.

Mark forced himself to keep walking until he reached an alley. If he could just get himself together enough for another hit, he would be okay. He sat down on the ground behind a trash can and started to pull out the old mirror. He was getting dizzy, and black spots swirled in front of his eyes. Finally, he couldn't hold them open any longer. He felt his hands begin to shake; he needed a hit, but there was no way he could prepare a line in this condition.

After a few moments, Mark felt someone begin to shake him. "Hey, man, you gotta get up. You can't sleep here," a voice said. Mark's head fell to one side as the man continued to shake him. The shaking stopped, and he felt someone feel for his pulse. He was slowly beginning to lose consciousness. "Hey Bernie, call a bus," the person called. Mark lost consciousness completely just afterwards.

A/n: Yay! I've got it caught up now so that there won't be any more flashbacks (unless it's someone's memory in the middle of something). And the last part is just before Mark wakes up in the hospital the first time, FYI.

I'm thinking that I might be able to finish this one off with just one more chapter. So review to find out what's going to happen!!!


	12. Starting Over

**Storm**

Mark willingly let Collins help him into Joanne's car. He was so excited about getting out of the hospital he didn't even care that he would have to rely on his friends to help him for a while. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat after buckling his seatbelt.

"How are you doing?" Collins asked. He was sitting in the backseat next to Mark.

"I'm just tired," Mark replied. He didn't open his eyes. "Don't worry, Collins. I'll be fine."

"I can't help but worry about you, Mark. You just had open heart surgery."

"I just want to go back to the loft already," Mark said. When no one said anything, he opened his eyes and looked around. Collins wasn't looking at him. "I am going back to the loft, right?"

"Not yet, Mark. There are too many stairs for you to climb," Joanne said. Mark closed his eyes again and sighed.

"I just want to go home already. It's been so long since I've seen the loft," he replied.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark signed his name at the bottom of the final piece of paperwork. It had been a few months since the judge had mandated he attend rehab, and he was finally well enough to sign himself in. He signed as he put down the pen. "You're going to be okay, sweetie," Maureen said, rubbing his back. He smiled at her and gave her a hug.

"Thanks, Maureen," he said. He really wasn't ready to let her leave just yet. He didn't think he was ready for whatever he was about to have to deal with.

"You can do this, Mark. You need to do this," she told him. Maureen pulled away from him and smiled. "You'd better go. Call us in a few days, okay?"

"I will. I'll see you soon, right?" he asked. She smiled again.

"Yeah, Pookie, really soon." She turned and walked away, leaving Mark to start the process of getting over his addiction.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark ran his fingers over the frets of Roger's old guitar. Collins had brought it to him; his friend had been cleaning out the loft somewhat, trying to get most of Roger and Mimi's things out. Mark had finally admitted that seeing Roger and Mimi's possessions lying around the loft had been part of the problem, and Collins was determined to help him.

Mark felt the tears beginning to flow, but he didn't stop them. His fingers ran along the old guitar strings. He could hear the old strains of "Musetta's Waltz," almost as though Roger was sitting there playing the guitar as Mark watched. He felt himself begin to shake as a craving hit him. He sat down on his bed and held onto the guitar like someone was going to steal it from him. He stayed that way for several minutes, fighting against the craving. When it was finally over, he was exhausted. He looked down at the guitar in his hands and wiped away the tears.

"Are you all right?" someone asked. Mark looked up at the nurse and nodded.

"Yeah," Mark replied. He leaned the guitar up against the wall, and used his free hand to wipe away the rest of the tears.

"What happened?" the nurse asked. She came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Mark smiled.

"Collins brought me Roger's guitar. He didn't know," Mark replied. "When I came back from the funeral, I couldn't even look at it. I felt like it was mocking me, reminding me that I couldn't have my best friend back. It was part of the reason I disappeared for so long." The nurse just nodded.

"What happened to your friend?"

"He and his girlfriend were hit by a car on their way to a meeting. He'd found out about the drugs… he was so pissed at me. I really thought he was going to beat the shit out of me then and there. But he just walked away. He told me I had to choose – it was either him or the drugs." Mark felt the tears begin to flow again. "I was high when I got the call. I can't believe how fucking stupid I was. I was going to choose the drugs over my best friend."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark smiled at Joanne and Maureen as he walked out of the rehab. It had been a while since he'd actually seen them; they'd been too busy to visit him very often. He pulled both of them into a hug as soon as he reached them. "Thank you," he whispered in Joanne's ear. She just nodded and smiled as she pulled away.

"We should go, traffic's going to be pretty heavy," Collins said from behind the two women. Mark smiled at him and willingly let the larger man wrap his arms around him. "You ever pull that shit again, I'll kick your ass."

"Point taken," Mark replied. He put his suitcase into the trunk of Joanne's car and got into the backseat with Collins. He was finally going home.

A/n: Hope you all enjoyed this! Sorry, but I'm not going to do a sequel because I'm sick of this story line. I'm taking Psychology this semester, so I have a textbook that provides plenty of material. But my first task is to finish writing my story _Fifty-Four_, which I've been working on for quite a while.


End file.
